Awakening
by AurigaCapella
Summary: Years have passed. Zuko is gone. Katara is searching. War is coming. War is here. Wake up.
1. Chapter 1: Don't wake up

Are you dreaming again, Katara? You really shouldn't be here. Maybe you should wake up.

Chapter 1

It was the dream again. She'd had it more frequently these days. She couldn't really figure out why. Maybe it was the stress of her position; running a city-state was certainly not the easiest task anyone had ever had. Especially now, when the whispers of war echoed through the halls as though the castle itself was afraid.

It started just as it had before, with Katara walking slowly down stone steps carved by the friction of a million boots. She was surrounded not by air, but by a distinct nothingness –still, silent, and devoid of any defining characteristics. As she moved, a small part of her recognized that although it was undoubtedly her feet that padded softly downward (no-one else would have those moccasins with the light blue ribbon she had woven through the laces), it was not her will that moved them. She was a prisoner in her own body.

Strangely enough, she wasn't afraid of this situation. She didn't feel anything, really. This place was a vacuum peopled only by static walls, dusky stones, and movement. She achieved the bottom floor, a damp, level thing built of paving stones so huge she wondered if earth-benders had been recruited to shift them. Surrounding this rounded room were small doors, wooden and solid, guarded by two men each. Whoever was behind those doors was either very important or very dangerous. Perhaps both.

Katara almost gasped – well, she would have, if she had any control over her body – when she saw that though the guards seemed human, they were missing a very important human characteristic: they were faceless. From their hairline to their chin, all Katara could make out was a smooth, skin-colored blur. Somehow, Katara knew the facial features were _there_, but it was almost as if it was her fault for not focusing enough, that if she just looked a little bit longer, she would be able to identify these monstrosities as human beings.

The whole situation was eerie, but again, Katara felt no fear. She shifted forward to one of the doors, ignoring the guards. They were completely still as she moved, neither acknowledging her presence nor shifting in place. Katara soon realized that their lack of response was likely because they were frozen in place. Their chests did not move, their bodies did not slowly sway in the manner of living beings – they were as still and silent as the grave, almost as if someone had carved statues with so much skill as to make them look _almost_ like people.

It was an easy task, then, for Katara to slide the wooden cross-piece which pinned the heavy door in place off its casings and pull the door outward. The room she entered was smaller than her own – her own bed, indeed, would probably not fit into it. But it looked as if two people were living here, as two tiny cots butted up against the side and back walls. One – the dirtier by far – was empty at the moment. The other was pristine except for the form of a man sitting cross-legged, facing the doorway Katara had just entered. His head was bowed, and his form was as still as the guards outside. She couldn't see his face, either, but not for the same reason – it was covered entirely by an ornate blue mask. A mask she had seen before, very long ago.

The Blue Spirit.

Here, Katara did experience a thrill, but it was not of fear. Katara almost questioned why now, of all times, her automatic dream self would be able to feel. Her confusion dissipated as she moved ever closer to the man. This was the point in the dream at which Katara always woke up. If she could just get a little closer this time, close enough to lift the mask…

She felt herself fading. She must be waking up. But her hand reached out, and as the world started to spin into oblivion, she was able to grasp the mask and lift it from the man's face. She expected a faceless blur. Instead, she was treated to perfect skin. No scar? Perfect features. No blur? No. It was the face of the banished prince – no, the lost King, now. Zuko. His eyes were closed as if he were meditating, his face frozen in concentration.

But as she was about to lose her grip on the dream world entirely, his eyes shot open, and she jumped back, pierced through the chest by the electricity of his amber gaze. What was that expression? Surprise? His mouth opened as if he were about to ask her to explain herself-

And she sat up in her bed, her heart racing, her shift drenched with sweat. Her mouth curled up before she could stop herself.

Zuko was alive.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Zuko sat up on his cot. His thin blanket was damp – he had been sweating again. He did that more frequently of late. Practicing his bending in his dreams probably had something to do with it.

He bowed his head as he considered the dream he had just had. It wasn't like anything he had ever experienced. He had been locked in meditation, locked so he couldn't move, couldn't see. But suddenly, the chains that held his body still were broken, and he opened his eyes to see someone he hadn't seen in years. Katara. She looked older – her skin a bit riper, her lips a bit redder, her body softer and more curved. But it had definitely been her. And for some reason, he was convinced she had really _been_ there.

"So you're awake, then. Grab the guard for me. He and I must have words about last night's dinner. Far too mild for my taste."

Zuko sighed at the old man in the nearby cage. The man thought he was still in a palace ordering servants around. Zuko, for today, was apparently one of those servants. It changed, sometimes. Sometimes Zuko was a slave, sometimes a state official. The man's imagination was as large as his sanity was tenuous. But Zuko wouldn't play along. He never had. He merely turned his back on the muttering fool and focused on his training.

Training was tricky when actual bending was a forbidden act. Zuko sort of had to picture the flames in his mind, focus on them, feel their heat, without actually creating them in the cell. Even bending in his dreams was risky – once he had burned his blanket before he had woken up enough to snuff the flames. The guards had enjoyed beating him soundly for that little mistake. Any actual bending was out of the question. The guards might not have been particularly skilled benders, but they fed him so little he was too weak to mount much of an attack against them. Add to that the fact that any bending they saw was instantly treated with a sound beating, and Zuko had given up on the venture early on.

Zuko didn't regret it one bit. Ironically, by _not_ bending, He felt like he was building his bending skills in ways he never would have had the Fire Nation oligarchy never thrown him in prison. Indeed, this bending-without-bending took more concentration than the actual act. Sometimes Zuko thought he _had_ bent – only to realize his eyes were closed and the flames that had seemed so real were gone as soon as he opened them. It was a strange sensation, like a waking dream.

Zuko knew he was honing his skills – he felt he now knew his own strength better than he ever had. One day he would use it. But not today. Today the guards would beat him, and he would let them, or they would beat him again tomorrow for his resistance. It was a weekly ritual, perverse in the fact that the moment his wounds were healed, they would be ripped open once again.

Zuko laughed bitterly at the thought. Healed so the pain would be fresher. This was no ordinary prison. It wouldn't be; only the most powerful and most feared prisoners were brought to the Wasureru – insurgents, leaders from opposing factions, overthrown kings. It wasn't meant as punishment. It was almost as if every guard who watched the cellmates took some kind of sick pleasure out of tormenting their prey. Each guard was another Azula, bent on hurting for the sake of hurting – not for exacting revenge, or gleaning information. The means _were_ the end. And Zuko would suffer them for the rest of his life.

After the beating left his head throbbing and his gut twisting around a dripping, festering knife wound, Zuko's day was made even worse by a single word uttered by the old man. At first, Zuko didn't hear the man over the jeers and laughs of the exiting guards. But the old man said it again.

"Zuko."

No. Not again. Not a moment of lucidity. Let the fool think him a butler, or a servant, or a MAID for all he cared, just let him remain a fool! Zuko could not weather one more moment alone with-

"Zuko. Why are you cringing like a girl? You cannot stand the sight of your own blood?"

Maybe if he ignored him, he would fall back into nonsensicality.

The man chuckled. "You never were able to stand pain, boy. I remember the time your mother cradled you when you skinned your knee. Your knee! Such a superficial wound, and yet she coddled you for it. She was as much of a-"

"Shut up."

"What?"

"Shut up!"

"Oh, the boy has teeth, eh? He thinks he can stand up for his mother? Why didn't he do that when he was younger, then? Why did he leave her to DIE, only to search for an avatar he couldn't find?"

It was no use. Zuko clapped his hands to his ears in spite of the jolt of pain it caused. Blood trickled from his side and from scrapes on his shoulders, but still the man's voice echoed through his head.

"A banished prince who couldn't restore his own honor. Who never had any honor to begin with. Why did I even bother with you? Why did I even give you a chance? It was obvious from the day you were born that you would never amount to anything. I should have given you away to be raised by peasants."

"I wish you had!" was the only retaliation Zuko could manage. If only his cellmate would lose his mind again. If only he would forget himself. If only he would leave his son alone.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Like my enigmatic intro? I kinda felt like starting the story right from the get go. It remains to be seen whether those little blurbs will continue or be integral to the story. We shall see.

Let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2: Too dangerous

Better stay out for now, Katara. It's too dangerous here.

Chapter 2

How strange. Katara had gone back to sleep with the express hope of seeing Zuko again. For a moment, she had seen the distinct image of dark stone walls and a winding staircase. It had hung, suspended for a moment or two, before turning suddenly black. It was almost as if someone had shoved a hand over her eyes, blocking her vision. All Katara recalled after that were a few bits and pieces of 'normal' dreams. Walking along the snowy city walkways, dancing under the moonlight with a dark, handsome prince, bending the earth like Toph. They were good dreams, but they were not _the _dream, and that frustrated her.

Zuko. She could still see his brilliant amber eyes whenever she closed her own. Her heartbeat sped as she considered his gaze. No scar. That had thrown her. He had seemed almost alien without it. Foreign, pale, and beautiful. More man than boy now, if the muscled body she had seen was true to life.

He was alive! Katara had been worrying over his welfare and whereabouts for the past two months, after a clumsy Fire Nation cover-up made it clear he was no longer in power. Oh, certainly, the official story was that Zuko had taken ill, that his Speaker had taken dead, and that his right-hand man, General Hen, had taken off, branded a traitor. No one had heard so much as a peep from the Fire Lord confirming or disconfirming anything. The only information in support of the story came from Zuko's new purported Speaker, whom the Fire Nation people inexplicably accepted as Zuko's voice without so much as an election.

Katara didn't buy any of it. At least, not that Zuko was merely convalescing. And, based on the sudden activity in the rest of the free world, neither did any other government. Appearances had to be kept up, of course, Trade routes with the Fire Nation remained open, as did communication, such as it was. Plans had to be drawn up. Defenses had to be increased. And now that Katara knew Zuko was alive and in prison, a Fire Lord had to be rescued.

But where was he? All she had to go on were stone stairs and wooden doors – not exactly unique in the realm of dungeons. If only she could dream of him again, maybe she could ask him to tell her more. But it would have to wait until tonight. Today she had a war to declare.

With purpose, she pushed aside her white comforter, throwing her legs off the bed and standing, allowing herself a yawn. The curtains were slightly open, letting a stream of morning sunlight into the room. "Umi?" She heard some rustling blankets, some hurried footsteps, and the old servant appeared at her side. The woman had insisted for weeks that she stay in Katara's room, and Katara had finally relented, with the exception that Umi at least sleep next door. Umi countered by insisting that the door between their rooms remain open. Katara and Umi made a game of closing and opening that door whenever the other wasn't looking.

"Yes, mistress?" Another annoying quirk. Katara was, in fact, head of state, and her cabinet had urged her time and time again to carry herself in a manner that fit her high position. She just couldn't get used to the jargon of it all. 'Mistress' this and 'Madam' that. She wasn't royalty!

"I'm heading to the high council meeting a bit early."

"Two _hours_ early, milady?" Umi let her disapproval bleed into her tone, but Katara ignored it.

"I have papers to go through before we begin. Have cook send me a small breakfast. Thank you."

Umi let her off with a scowl this time, which was just as well. Katara would craft the perfect argument to convince her cabinet to declare war, and if she lost a bit of sleep because of it, then so be it.

When she arrived at the stateroom, it was pitch black. Regretting her lack of firebending, she grabbed a candle from the hallway and lit a few of the torches recessed in the tapestried walls. Taking a seat, she spread her papers before her, information from a trusted network of spies she now controlled in every nation. Ittaliurvik may have been only a city-state, one of two newly seated in the Southern Continent, but information was often better than an army – and certainly cheaper.

Fire Nation. Speaker claimed everything is hunky-dory. People were beginning to wonder if the Fire Lord was really sick.

North Pole. Building their defenses, though no armies had attacked since the Great War. Citizens worked in fear, but knew nothing.

The Northern Air Temple. Colonists work tirelessly to improve mechanized weapons for the Earth Kingdom army. Food was scarce.

Southern Continent. Particularly unclear, even though Ittaliurvik itself rested at the northern tip. General Hen, former Fire Nation army general, had defected. No, he was exiled. He took 100 men with him. No, a thousand. He was amassing an army to attack the Fire Nation, the Southern Water tribe, the Avatar himself.

Half-truths bathed in secrecy and couched in uncertainty. But together, they suggested something Katara had only recently acknowledged.

Her own realization was based on a week-old letter from the Avatar himself. _The Fire Faction has risen. Prepare yourselves. _

The Fire Faction. Rumored to be one of the most extreme political groups on the planet. Nothing but global dominance would satisfy them. They had loved Ozai's rule because Ozai was an imperialist. Zuko was a proven enemy simply because the word 'reparations' was in his vocabulary. If they had gained any power at all, the world had much to fear.

But the fact that the Fire Faction was now to be reckoned with wasn't spoken of in Ittaliurvik. It wasn't spoken aloud anywhere. People were too afraid to speak the truth. War was coming. And now Katara would use every bit of the guile she had built as head of state to convince her cabinet it was so.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Zuko woke in a cold sweat, nausea keeping him immobile for now. He dragged his hand down his grimy face, wiping dirt into his scraggly beard, forgetting yet again that he had it. He had tried – successfully – to achieve the dream again. He held the word in high esteem, now; it wasn't _a_ dream, but _the_ dream. Because it held hope for escape. Because it held her.

But this time, she hadn't appeared. And as before, his body had been completely immobile, held by invisible chains. He had been paralyzed, and she wasn't there to free him. The despair of his situation – of his imprisonment – crossed the boundary between sleep and awake, compressing itself into a single moment and plunging into his gut with all the force of an earthbender's attack.

Hopelessness woke him; despair was his companion as he rose, and his insane father chose again to remember who he was.

"Zuko, why do you even bother waking up? You couldn't even lead the Fire Nation I ruled for decades."

Zuko vaguely wondered how Ozai had known about Zuko's exile. Well, a Lord in prison was no longer a Lord. _Don't think about her…_

"I suppose it was to be expected from a spoiled prince. Your mother used to wake you up every morning. Remember? _Every_ morning."

He sounded almost nostalgic, but Zuko knew better.

"You were a whiny, coddled brat even then. She was a fool to nurse you that way. You were never destined to be as powerful as your sister. She should have given you up as I did from the beginning."

Zuko's back was broken with the memory of his horrible dream, so he allowed himself a counterattack. "Shut up, old man." Surprisingly, Ozai quieted. Perhaps he was slipping back into insanity. But Zuko was losing his composure, as well. Maybe it was Ozai's bout of quasi-sanity; perhaps the effects of the dream were messing with Zuko's decision-making capacity. He bowed his head and spoke something he had held locked in his heart for years. "There must have been a time when you loved me." Poor move. The former Fire Lord did not answer; he merely chuckled, then cackled, then threw his head back and roared with laughter. He did not stop until the guards opened the door and beat them both.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

More exposition! Bored yet? To reassure you, yes, there will be plenty of Zutara moments. I already have a lot of them written. But it's not going to be _too_ easy…hehehehe

Thanks for the reviews, by the way! They are lovely things.


	3. Chapter 3: Seeing nothing but

Wait. It is almost time. Be ready.

Chapter 3

The council meeting was going as well as could be expected. Katara had won six of the eight members to her cause. The final two, Watanabe and Obata, old, grizzled war veterans from the North Pole, were really only arguing for show. They were stubborn, but not _that_ stubborn. They would see she spoke the truth. Even they were beginning to respect Katara as a leader.

That respect had been hard to come by. It had been a long road to her position as Premier of Ittialurvik. After the Great War ended, Katara had returned to the Southern Continent to help her people rebuild. She, Sokka and Hakoda had worked at gathering the people from their scattered tribes into a single, defensible unit. At the beginning, it had been just an unstructured a collection of people in lean-tos and huts. But over time, larger buildings were constructed, businesses opened, and the loose gathering was transformed into a relatively strong, bustling city.

But it didn't have a leader. Hakoda was the obvious choice, but he had been asked to serve as an ambassador on Aang's newly created Board of Nations. Hakoda, believing his place was to help maintain the peace that had been so hard won, had taken the position. Sokka, another possibility, had married Suki, and now served with the Kyoshi warriors who, rather than continue to train on Kyoshi Island, now practiced their skills as hired merceneries as they traveled the world. He had said it kept him on his toes, and really, Sokka was made to travel.

That left Katara. She hadn't initially had such lofty aspirations, but her father and brother had encouraged her to attempt it. Most of the citizens of the new city-state (excluding Watanabe and Obata, of course) seemed to respect her opinion, so she finally made the decision to campaign. Perhaps it was the fact that she was a master waterbender; perhaps it was her legacy of healing the sick and caring for the wounded, but she represented hope for her people. They thanked her for that symbolism by electing her Premier.

Katara was just about to convince Watanabe that Ittialurvik should at least increase her defenses when the double doors at the end of the room were flung open and an angry young man burst in. He strode along the table, eying each of the council members in turn, before finally fixing his grey eyes on her face.

"Why haven't you responded to my messages? The Fire Faction is about to declare war, and you are sitting on your pleated cushions, discussing matters of state, and ignoring the danger at your doorstep?"

Katara noticed that Watanabe and Obata were retreating in their seats, shooting her disapproving looks. She had been so close to convincing them!

Katara stood, all hope of a war declaration gone for today. She was simultaneously incensed and bewildered at the sight of a man she had not seen in years. She reigned in her annoyance at his disregard for propriety and bowed respectfully. "Avatar Aang, what a privilege it is–"

"Stop it, Katara. You may have learned to politick to win your election, but you don't have to waste time kissing up to me."

"Kissing up! How dare you!" The aid at her side tried to reach out a hand to calm her, but she shook it off. "Aang, I don't care WHO you are, but this is my city and MY council meeting. You will not insult me in front of my citizens!"

"Don't tell me your pride is too hurt to see the truth of my words?" Aang considered her, weighing her value as she sputtered at him.

"For your information, Avatar, this meeting was called to address those very concerns!" What happened to the happy-go-lucky kid she had said goodbye to? The teenager who teared up because she said she didn't love him? The man who regarded her coolly was muscled, tall, and his expression shifted to something she could only label as 'wry.' Wry! Cute little Aang, wry? Wonders never cease.

"I sent the message a week ago, Katara. It's a little late to be discussing defenses now."

"Proper decorum requires that every council member receive approval from his or her district to take time out of the workday to attend a high council meeting. A week is actually quite-"

"Can you hear yourself? I never thought you'd turn into the type of person to place rules above the safety of the people you love."

Katara's words caught in her throat, but she managed to force out a quiet "later, Aang" before nodding to her council and storming from the room. Her private study was connected by a short hallway to the council room, and she sank into a comfortable chair to gather herself. Aang appeared before her, his expression annoyed.

"You've changed."

Katara snorted. "I could say the same thing about you. Since when do you think it's okay to throw cultural etiquette to the wind? I thought the Avatar was supposed to be sensitive to such things."

"Not if the 'etiquettes' you speak of are-" Aang cut himself off and pinched the bridge of his nose as if warding off a headache. "May I sit?"

Perplexed, Katara motioned to another chair against the mahogany wall. "Please. But only if it doesn't take you too much time."

Aang sighed, acknowledging the jab. "Katara, I regret my words in there. Most of them. My purpose in coming was not to upset or insult you."

Katara gritted her teeth. If he was offering the olive branch, she would of course take it. "Well, that's not how my council saw it, surely. They must have thought you were treating me like a child over one knee, about to be spanked!" After getting her anger out of her system, of course.

Aang's cheeks reddened a bit at her statement. She didn't know if he was angry or embarrassed. "Katara, what has happened to you? You used to be so…happy. Happy to see me, happy to see the sky, to bend water, to wile away hours with friends."

"I have an important position, Aang."

"When is the last time you even talked to Toph?"

Katara didn't acknowledge the question because she had launched into a speech she had rehearsed to herself a thousand times to quiet her own discomfort. "I have to protect my city. And to do that, I have to work. I can't wa- take time to write letters. I can't, because something won't get done that needs to be done. I can't-"

"Your brother?"

"-just go off willy-nilly and pick some flowers and enjoy the rain. My citizens can do that because I am here, in my office, running their city. They elected me to help them, and help them I will."

When she finished, Aang just looked at her for a long moment, seeming to see right into her heart. She shifted uncomfortably, thinking he might press his point. But he seemed content to drop the issue for now, because he stood from his chair and moved toward her, offering his hand. "I see that. It must take a lot of time to run a city." _Try maintaining world peace_, his grin seemed to say, but Katara's anger had dissipated in the face of her own shortcomings. So she took his hand, thinking to shake it in truce, when he pulled her to her feet and into his arms.

"I missed you, Katara."

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Don't worry, Zuko. It's time to get rid of the old man.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Zuko groaned. The shallow knife wounds in his ribs were healing more slowly than usual, it seemed. The only mercy was that the guards would wait until he healed to try again. Until then, he was safe.

Turning on his side, he coughed slightly, feeling the wounds tear open as he did so. He groaned again, hating the guards, hating the oligarchy, hating the woman who had put him here. But he couldn't think of her without pain that outweighed anything his body was experiencing, so he focused on the flame in his head, hoping that bending in his mind would distract him.

A single flame sputtered, then grew, warping slightly as he began to bend.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTThat's it. Feed the flame.

Startled, Zuko let the flame die completely. Had someone spoken to him? He listened, half expecting a response, when he got one from one of the two people he never wished to speak to again.

"I need my robes to be tied more evenly. Why does Ryouga insist on such sloppy work? Ryouga! Come fix my robe."

_I'm not Ryouga, old man. Ryouga's been dead for five years._

"Are you deaf? Do you need me to speak in small words so you understand? FIX MY ROBE."

Zuko was surprised Ryouga hadn't made an assassination attempt after such treatment. But Ozai was adept at ruling by fear. Zuko was about to respond in a noncommittal fashion when one of the guards thumped on the wooden door.

"Quiet down. Or else."

Zuko sighed. If Ozai wouldn't shut up, they'd have more wounds than they could count.

"My ROBE, fool! Or are you afraid your grimy hands will dirty it?"

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFeed the flame, Zuko. It will help, I promise.

Zuko was getting angrier. Perhaps it would be best if he calmed down. He closed his eyes and concentrated. There was the flame again, glowing warm and bright. It flickered in the darkness of his imagination like an old friend.

"You imbecile! You have ONE JOB and this is all you do? Ignore your MASTER?"

Zuko took the irritation, now the flat-out anger, that Ozai was causing him, and forced it into the flame. The flame shifted from a warm red to a searing blue in a matter of seconds.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA bit more and all will be well.

More anger, more flames. Hotter. Warmer, The flames flickered. Grew. Hotter. His face was burning. His hands felt like they were on fire. And all the while his IDIOT father would not stop YELLING. The guards were now banging on the door as if they were trying to beat it down. All Zuko could feel was the heat, the annoyance, the RAGE AT THE MAN WHO KILLED HIS MOTHER-

and then he leapt

his hands closing on the neck

his eyes burning white

seeing nothing but murder


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Here we go. Chapter 4. This fic is kicking my butt. I'm seriously trying to get Zuko and Katara onto the same continent, but the story just won't let me! You'll all have to suffer a bit more before that happens. :P

Thanks so much for the reviews, everyone. They really help keep me going.

Kimberly T – I definitely understand where you're coming from. I think this chapter may address your concerns to some extent, but I will say that over time, people change – sometimes for the better, but sometimes for the worse, falling away from what used to be important to them. I'm kind of trying to explore that a bit, having Katara struggle with this stressful position of power and balancing its demands with her desire to spend time with her family. I think it's plausible. When it's brought to her attention, she realizes of course how wrong she has been to neglect those bonds. But even Katara can make such mistakes. Aang, too, has had to struggle with certain things (which will be made clear below) on top of maintaining world peace. I think his character would change a bit as a result. He might become a little less happy-go-lucky, a little more focused. But you are certainly entitled to object to my characterization. That's the beauty of fanfiction. And thanks for the eye color catch! I based it on pictures of him, but they're grey! Go figure.

AnnaAza – Yay, Princess Bride reference! I'ma watch that movie now.

DDDDDDDDDDDD

Held in a firm hug by the Avatar himself didn't set her nerves tingling so much as it aggravated her. She was aggravated partly because of the truth of his words – she hadn't been taking as much time as she should have lately to visit her family and friends. Her letters to Toph had become more and more infrequent. She told herself that she was just too busy at the moment, that work would ease up at some point. Of course, it never did. But she was getting very good at arguing lost causes.

_I'll write tomorrow. No, next week. No, I'm sure I'll get to it eventually. _

It was the same with Sokka. He stopped by with Suki on his own, sure, but did she visit him? She always had a reason not to go, some huge event that needed planning, some council meeting that could not be put off.

Aang had hit the nail on the head. She had been neglecting the people who loved her most in all the world. Katara was consumed with guilt. When had family and friends become such an…afterthought? How could she have let her love for them slide under the weight of responsibility?

But even as she acknowledged her own grievous fault, she bristled with anger. Yes, she hadn't contacted Sokka or Toph in a couple months. But the reason she hadn't seen the Avatar face to face in years was as much Aang's fault as it was hers.

After the Great War, she and Aang had dated consistently. It was difficult given the amount of work they had to do, but Aang loved her fiercely and she loved him in return. Those two years were years she would not give back for the world. They were innocent, sweet, wonderful years, filled with promise.

But that had all changed as suddenly as a sunrise. When Katara had turned sixteen, she and Aang had visited the Fire Nation to congratulate Zuko on a newly-built airship factory. Zuko was beginning to have trouble ruling even then. Ozai had left a sour taste in the mouths of many citizens regarding his 'wayward failure' of a son. The taste was overwhelmed by the initial euphoria of freedom from tyranny, but it came back with a vengeance particularly when Zuko insisted on paying reparations to all peoples the Fire Nation had affected with their devastating army campaigns.

Thinking to comfort a friend during his distress, Katara slipped away from Aang and had a simple conversation with Zuko. Just a conversation. But oh, the repercussions were lasting. He had been sitting on the balcony, eyes fixed on the architectural ebbs and flows of a city he was losing to his father's psychological warfare. He had looked so distraught she had almost hugged him right then and there. But instead, she took a seat nearby and asked him how he had been.

Their conversation was nothing amazing. He told her of his break-up with Mai, of how he missed his friends, of his anger at the group of citizens who were now undermining his rule. She sympathized, saying she missed him, as well. He held a ring in his hand, a simple bronze loop. Unadorned. Tarnished. She asked him about it, and he said his father had owned it, that it was a symbol of the power Ozai still had over his life. His eyes were so pained as he stared at it that Katara grabbed it and put it on. It fit. She asked him if she could carry the burden of his father until he was ready to bear it himself. Brief eye contact, a smile of gratitude, a sigh of sympathy, and their words had ended in an embrace neither was expecting. A hug. That was all it had been.

But Aang did not consider the hug nothing. Of course he had walked in on this transaction. Of course it hurt him. Katara hadn't thought the kind boy, now fourteen, capable of jealousy. But he was human, in spite of his bending capacity. Later that day, he cornered her with a question and a ring of his own. Marriage. Affirmation was the answer he sought, but Katara was not willing to give it. At that moment she realized that though she loved him, though she truly wanted what was best for him, she did not want to marry him. She was not _in_ love.

Their breakup was devastating, but it was right. The next time she saw Aang was months later. She was assisting with the gathering of tribes on the Southern Continent. Sokka was there. Hakoda was there. But they could not buffer against the Aang's obvious sorrow. He was hurt, and acted, based on that pain, so uncharacteristically cold that Katara withdrew. Subsequent meetings were formal and short.

It had been almost two years since she last saw him. He had come to observe the construction of new buildings in Ittialurvik, and stood, taller than before, grinning out at Sokka as the idiot tried to lift an entire canoe by himself. She had thought that perhaps they had gotten past the awkwardness, but while Aang had interacted normally with their friends, he still hadn't spoken more than two sentences to her. Did such pain last forever with an Avatar?

"So now you decide to speak to me?" She pushed Aang away, glaring up at him. He at least had the decency to look ashamed.

"Katara, I-"

"Okay, maybe I haven't been maintaining contact with my family. I regret that. I really do. And you're right, no position is more important than them." She crossed her arms. "But you certainly don't have any right to talk. How long has it been?"

"I know how long it's been. And I'm sorry, Katara. I really am. I…had some things I had to work through."

"You're important to me, Aang!"

"I know. I wrote to you."

"State letters with not a mention of what was going on in your life. Not a mention of me, Katara. Just me, Premier of Ittialurvik."

Aang sighed and sat down on the floor. "I get it. But I couldn't face you after…" He trailed off, blessedly avoiding the rejection they both wanted to forget. "I couldn't. When I visited, I did want to talk to you. But it hurt too much. I needed time."

Katara humphed and sat down, cross-legged, facing him.

"Too much time, I know. Forgive me?" Here he tilted his head. He looked so much older. So much…sadder. Like the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders even now.

"If you'll forgive me." Aang smiled, and all the guilt and stress of the past washed away. She felt...normal again. But as she glanced down, she noticed the bronze ring on her right forefinger. How could she have forgotten?

"Zuko!" Katara gripped her hand and leaned forward. "Tell me you know where he is."

"What?" Aang's eyes clouded over with confusion. "That was one of the things I came specifically to tell you. You knew he wasn't ruling the Fire Nation anymore?"

"Oh, please. The coup was obvious. We just couldn't do anything about it." She stood and began pacing nervously, trailing one hand along a long, dark table that buttressed the paneled wall. "I thought he was just being held under house arrest in the palace. Something he can handle, right? I mean, he's Zuko. Fire Lord. Master firebender." She stopped when she reached the end of the table, turning to face Aang. "But it's much worse than that. He needs my help. He's locked in some horrible dungeon-"

"What? How in the world could you know that?" Aang was now standing in the middle of the room, a look of bewilderment etched on his face.

She shook her head. "I'm not sure myself exactly how it happened. I dreamed him. But it wasn't a dream, exactly. I was there, in the cell. I saw him, masked. But when I pulled the mask off, it was him, and I knew it was him, but he didn't have a scar for some reason, and the guards were faceless, and the whole situation was just-"

"The Dreaming. That's what Roku was talking about." Aang crossed his arms thoughtfully. "The world created in a clash of spirit and manipulation, cut off from true existence for decades, keeping the manipulator from his prey." He sounded like he was quoting someone.

"Roku? Roku contacted you?"

"Yeah. Specifically about Zuko. He has a special place in his heart for his great-grandson." Here Aang smiled, almost as if he were feeling Roku's familial fondness for the Fire Lord. Weird. "Anyway, that's part of why I'm here." Aang moved to the wall and sat in an ornate cushioned chair. He fixed his eyes on hers. "Roku told me that Zuko is imprisoned…somewhere. That's the only information he gave me." Aang frowned. "He's kind of enigmatic that way."

Katara tried to speak, but Aang continued. "But don't worry; I'm sure that with Roku's help I'll be able to find Zuko. So here's the plan. I make sure your nation is well-defended, go rescue Zuko, defeat the Fire Faction, and reinstate him as Fire Lord. Simple." _And I stand by and do nothing?_

Katara must have looked incredulous, because Aang raised his eyebrows. "What? It's not like I haven't saved the world before, Katara." He was starting to sound like an impetuous 12-year-old again.

"Zuko is in pain right _now_, Aang. He can't wait for us to establish our defenses."

Aang sighed. "I know that. But the Fire Faction is ruthless, and completely unpredictable. What if they attack your people when I'm trying to rescue him? Can you stand against a siege as you are now? You haven't even finished building your city wall."

"Well…no. Of course we need your help." Katara shook her head. "But Aang, I've seen him. I've been there in his cell. And he's my – _our_ – friend, Aang." She stepped toward him, pleading her case. "And I can help him. I know it. He needs me."

"Katara-"

Aang's voice cut off, not because Aang stopped speaking, but because Aang stopped _existing_. The very space Aang had been standing was now filled with darkness. It wasn't dark as a room is when the lights have been extinguished. No, it was _filled_, as if the darkness had substance, had _presence_. But as in her earlier dream – Dreaming? - Katara was unafraid.

MMMMMMMMMMMMaybe you should be afraid.

Katara looked up, and all at once she saw Zuko. Her heart beat sped up. She was in the room with him, standing at the doorway, hearing someone pounding on the wooden door behind her. She considered his form. His dark hair sort of wavered – flickered – between clean-cut locks that ended at his collar and long, bedraggled strands that hadn't seen a brush in weeks. His clothing similarly shifted from smooth red silk to dirty sackcloth. But even grimy, he was as powerful and beautiful as an unbridled steed.

Katara was suddenly aware of the ring on her hand. Ozai's ring. It was getting warm, and somehow heavier than usual. Someone with an unstable voice was yelling, viciously hurling insults at Zuko. Someone sitting on a cot in the corner. She couldn't see him clearly at first, but she felt something sort of click in her mind, as if someone had pulled a lever, and the blurred image resolved into a broken figure of a man with a grey-tinged beard and hollow eyes. Was that…Ozai? She hadn't seen him in her earlier dream. But now, here he was, hurling insults at someone named Ryouga while Zuko, his back to her, sat motionless on his cot.

She was about to call his name when he sprang bodily from his cot and hurled himself at Ozai. His fingers closed around the older man's throat as if his own life depended on choking the life out of the tyrant.

Zuko was trying to murder his own father. Zuko would never do such a thing. But the evidence was right there, before her eyes.

H H H H H H H H H H Help him.

Katara shook herself from her horrific reverie and tried to grab Zuko's arm-

But she couldn't move. She couldn't even step forward. Her previous freedom was now completely restricted.

Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Your voice.

Filled with sudden conviction, she heaved a huge breath and let out the loudest yell she could manage.

"ZUKO!" His head lifted slightly. "NO!"

She saw his hands falter and his head turn, catching a brief glimmer of amber as the world faded away to nothing.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

When the guards had finally entered, they had checked Ozai for a pulse. Blessedly, life was still in him, but barely. The guards knew they would be held accountable for a dead prisoner – especially a royal one. So they removed Ozai to recover in a separate room. Zuko noticed that they gave him a wide berth as they carried his father from his sight.

He had almost murdered his father. He had almost _murdered his own father_. The thought shook him to the core, but as he sat, stricken, silent, lost, he knew he was not alone.

Katara had been there. Katara had saved him from doing something he would never have forgiven himself for. But how she must despise him now. Did evil bleed from father to son?

I I I I I I I I I I It was not you. It was not your blood. It was _him_.

Somehow comforted, but by he knew not what, Zuko leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

H H H H H H H Help is coming.

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYou have no power here, wise one!

"I heard that." Zuko said. His voice was shaky, but clear. "I said, I heard that." The room was silent.

Zuko stood up, not letting the voices go this time. "I said, I heard you! You said "you have no power, wise one," didn't you? Who are you?" Zuko waited for what seemed like an eternity before a man's voice spoke directly into Zuko's ear.

"Nice to finally meet you, prince."

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Whew. Annnnd submit. Let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5: The Dreaming Man

A/N: I've been struggling with some major writer's block. Sorry it's so late! Enjoy.

Chapter 5

"Katara!"

She sat up with a gasp. She couldn't breath. Her chest was constricted. Aang's hands were at her shoulders and he was shaking her.

"Are you alright? Katara!"

Zuko's hands squeezing the throat of his father. The image was seared into her eyes so strongly that she saw it even when her eyes were open.

"No. No, he can't have done it. Tell me it wasn't real." And then any vestige of control disintegrated in the wake of incoherent sobs. Her whole body shook so much that even Aang's strong embrace couldn't still it.

When she could finally open her eyes, they were filled with Aang's concerned face. He was now seated on her bed – when had she come to her bedroom? – and his arms still held her steady.

"Thank goodness. You're alright. Aren't you? I mean, you're not hurt or anything?" He raised a hand to her forehead. "You're kind of warm. Maybe you should lie down."

Katara shook her head. When she spoke, her voice cracked. "Zuko almost killed his father, Aang. He would have if I hadn't stopped him."

Aang considered her, his features smoothing over so his expression was inscrutable. "You're sure?"

She nodded. "But how could he? How could he do such a thing?" More tears leaked unchecked down her swollen cheeks. "Our Zuko, a murderer? Tell me it wasn't real!"

T T T T T T T Truthfully speaking, it wasn't real.

Katara's eyes widened. Over Aang's shoulder she saw the vague outline of a man she recognized from Aang's descriptions over the years. She pushed Aang aside and leaned forward.

"Avatar Roku?"

Aang started at her words and turned to see his mentor. "Roku." He looked confused. "But…this isn't the spirit world. And…Katara can see you?"

I I I I I I I I It is necessary. The Dreaming Man is almost free.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

"What are you?" Zuko felt unsteady, but kept his face carefully calm. Whoever this creature was, it was likely opportunistic. No need to give it any indication of weakness.

"Hmm…now it's 'what,' not 'who?' How impolite. I was a man, once." The 'man' stepped back and began pacing the floor. "But I suppose it was a very long time ago. Have centuries of isolation made me so inhuman?"

Zuko nodded slightly, his stomach twisting in what he had to admit was fear. He took to examining the speaker closely to distract himself, taking in the pale skin and vacuous expression of a being who was _almost_ like someone you'd meet on any street in any city. Almost. Gray robes, immaculately clean, embroidered with blue thread. Thin frame, slightly hunched back. But there was something…off about him. Perhaps it was the way his pale eyes focused on nothing at all even as he addressed the Fire Lord. Perhaps it was the way his black hair lay plastered on his scalp, strangely motionless as the creature took slow, shifty steps across the room, his face always turned toward Zuko.

"Well, you are more interesting than I thought, prince." Here the creature smiled, morphing his normal face into a mask even grimmer than before. "I did not think I would be able to…_encourage_ you so quickly. I thought it would take six months at the least. But look at you, attacking your own father after only two!"

Zuko flinched at the words. Attacking his own father. "What exactly is going on?" Zuko stepped forward, against the recommendation of his nerves, putting a menacing front to his slowly growing terror. "What _are_ you?"

The creature continued as if Zuko had not spoken. "I mean, really! Even my previous conquest lasted three before I broke him. Just how much hate do you have for your father?"

Zuko's shoulders tensed in the face of the creature's verbal attack. He felt the flame in his mind seeking escape, grower warmer and warmer. But this creature was suggesting that _it_ was the reason for Zuko's anger? It had caused his earlier attack on Ozai? It was _manipulating_ him?

"I said, WHAT ARE YOU?"

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

B B B B B B B But I don't have much time.

Katara spoke then, needing a sure answer to fortify her shaken faith in her old friend. "Avatar Roku. You were there with me in the dream, weren't you? You told me to help Zuko."

I I I I I I I I I did. You saved him from the Dreaming Man's power. I thank you.

Katara squinted. Even though she could see the old Avatar, his form was blurred like the guards' faces had been.

"How is it that I can even _see_ you, Avatar?"

I I I I I I I I Intriguing, isn't it? Where did that ring on your finger come from?

Katara raised an eyebrow and looked down to her hand, examining the soft metal that twisted slightly as it circled her finger. "Zuko gave it to me." She felt her face heat up.

A A A A A A A Ah. I thought it looked familiar. That's the ring I gave to Ta Min when we married. I crafted it myself. A rumination ring. Worn over a long period of time, the ring provides access to the Dreaming. Allows someone who does not frequent the spirit realm to see me.

Aang blanched. "Zuko gave Katara a…a wedding ring?"

H H H H H H H Ha. I'm sure he did not know. Where did he say he got the ring?

Spinning the ring on her finger, Katara contemplated the fact that it had been worn for decades by the wife of this great Avatar. "From his father."

T T T T T T T T Then Ozai must have somehow gotten it from Ursa. Poor dear. How the boy must miss her.

Aang seemed uncomfortable. "You did say you didn't have much time…"

Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Yes, Aang. Zuko is in more danger than you know. You saved him once, Katara, but the Dreaming Man is a cunning foe. Zuko is strong, but he is in the Dreaming Man's realm – his home. He will not be able to resist for long. I am doing what I can, but it is not enough. Only the bearer of that ring can save him.

In spite of her beating heart, Katara set her chin and looked straight at Roku's face. "Tell me how."

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

"No need to yell. Really, you should thank me. I saved you from a prison in your beloved old city."

Zuko looked around pointedly at the cell walls. The creature laughed shallowly.

"Ha, yes, fair point. You think you're still in prison. But only because I wanted you to think you were still there. I can easily free you from these walls."

And in the blink of an eye they were no longer in a cold cell, but a grassy field, gently sloping down to a lazy creek lined with dainty flowers. When Zuko remembered to blink, he realized that his palms were throbbing painfully. How long had he been clenching his fists like that? What was going on? Was he completely insane? Had he suffered the same fate as his father? Had he died? Was this hell? He rounded on the creature, but before he could question it, it brought up another tangible illusion with a flourish of its hand – an illusion Zuko recoiled at. Her.

"You recognize her, I suppose? You should. I got her from your memory. Bad luck that she's the reason you were locked away." In an instant, the creature was behind him, whispering into Zuko's ear as he gazed at the deep brown curls and dark eyes of a woman he had thought he loved enough to marry. A woman who had betrayed him. The creature continued its attack, appearing at the woman's side and examining her face. "But she's just so pretty. Rina, isn't that her name? Anyone could understand why you let her trick you."

Zuko found himself unable to look away from Rina's soft expression even as his stomach twisted in anger. He had trusted her. Proposed to her, once her mother convinced him it would help his citizens appreciate his rule. Loved her. But her companionship had ended up being literal poison. One moment they had been eating a candlelit meal, her smiling over the sparkling red gem he had placed on her finger, him smiling happily at the prospect of spending his life with her, and the next his head was fuzzy, his arms were bound, and he was summarily dropped into a hole of a prison cell. He closed his eyes, and heat flickered behind his lids. Control, Zuko. Think of something else. "What of my father?"

"Ha. One of my better creations, I must say. Just the right tinge of insanity made his reality just sing. I might just bring him back when you're gone, wile away the hours perfecting his cruelty." Hah. Zuko wasn't sure whether to feel relief or rage at the revelation. So Ozai had never even _been_ there. Zuko had strangled a phantom. And if he himself wasn't, in fact, insane, then he had existed for the past – weeks? months? – in an illusory world that could be changed in an instant at the whims of this inhuman jailer.

The creature had rounded on him now, slinking past Rina's silent, staring form, his strange glassy eyes still unfocused. Zuko gritted his teeth, fed up with moving under the control of this puppeteer. But his confusion and anger immediately disappeared at the sudden appearance of a second woman. She blinked into existence about twenty feet ahead of Zuko, and he found himself unable to pay attention to anything but the concerned eyes of this wonderful antithesis of everything Rina had been. Loyal, trustworthy, true…

"Katara." He breathed the name, regretting his action as soon as he did so, for as soon as he spoke, the creature hissed and spun around, instantly conjuring up a massive black block inches above Katara's head. She had only enough time to glance up in horror before the block crashed to the ground, crushing her beneath its weight.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Dun Dun Dunnnnn…


	6. Chapter 6: Escape

Wow, it's been awhile. Sorry. I hate it when other authors do this, and here I am taking forever to release chapters. But here you are, fresh off the presses.

Chapter 6

Deep in the bowels of the Fire Nation Palace there was a room guarded by four men who held their lives in their hands daily. A misplaced word from them even ten meters down the hallway would have earned them a knife or two in the back. These men knew to keep silent about anything and everything they heard and saw. The room they guarded held neither riches nor treasure nor military secrets. In this room, lit by a single candle suspended on a black chain, lived a secret that would have exploded the fragile ties of peace that held the nation – and the world – together.

The disheveled, dark-haired man who paced from wall to wall was this secret personified. It had been his advice – his ambition – that had set treacherous wheels in motion. But it had not been his idea.

The calm, well-dressed woman who now sat at the only piece of furniture in the room – a simple wooden desk – knew the secret. She had implemented it, driving the plan to its ultimate conclusion. But she had not driven alone.

This secret was known only by these two people, a select and trusted few others, and one who had masterminded it all. If all of them had their way, it would remain a secret indefinitely.

"I gave him the brat just like he asked. I would rather have killed him and had done with it. But no, he had to stay alive. It would be BETTER that way. Better? When the Fire Lord could escape, waltz right back into the throne room and ruin everything?"

"Kaito…" The woman calmly called his name. Of course that wouldn't happen. Even now, Jiro and Kuro were steadfastly guarding the Fire Lord's prison cell. They were so dedicated to Kaito it was amusing. But Kaito was too riled up to pay attention. It was a habit of his.

"Why am I hiding behind a woman instead of ruling the Fire Nation?" Rina made a face, but Kaito chose to ignore it. She wouldn't hold a grudge for long. Kaito clenched his fist and almost slammed it into Rina's desk, but thought better of it when he noticed a nice tray of delicate pastries he might have upset. He surreptitiously took one, maintaining his glower while he turned away from Rina to cram the pastry into his mouth. Hmm. It was good. It would have tasted better if he were FIRE LORD.

"Calm, Kaito. You _will_ rule. You _are_ ruling, through me. And you must be patient. Master Phobetor told us the people will not accept an outright coup. They will only accept me as their Speaker because they think I am engaged to their Lord. If they knew he was really holed up in a prison cell, they would slaughter us. Master Phobetor promised us, and he has never lied to us."

"Still not completely okay with that, by the way. Why did you have to go and get _engaged_ to him?"

"Are we really going to go over this again, Kaito?" Rina sighed and stood, picking up the pastry tray and walking it over to him. "Are you really threatened by a man we threw in jail months ago? A man who is now held in the Dream?" She stroked his arm and proffered the tray, knowing what he would do before it happened.

"Are you trying to manipulate me, Rina?" Kaito spun and dashed the tray from her hand, spilling the pastries everywhere. Rina rolled her eyes when he turned away dramatically. "Of course I would be unhappy when the woman I love offers herself to another man!"

"Kaito, you _know_ I never loved him." Rina almost sighed again as she rattled off the well-rehearsed words. "You're the only man for me. I would never leave you for such a-" Let's see, which comes first? Oh, yes – "horrible, sickly, greasy, badly-dressed little brat like him." She crossed her arms and waited patiently.

Kaito slowly turned (as expected, glancing down somewhat mournfully at the ruined pastries) and gave Rina a petulant smile. "That's right. He _is_ badly-dressed, isn't he?"

"Of course, dear."

"And sickly."

"Yes, dear. Shall we go? I have a meeting with a few of the nobles, and I know you wanted to rehearse what I should say again."

"After you, my dear."

As Rina sauntered past him out the door, Kaito quickly bent down, grabbed a few pastries, and shoved them under his robe.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

"NO!" Zuko didn't even know what to think. He couldn't think. All he could see was Katara looking up in horror before disappearing under the weight of a massive rock. It played over and over and over in his mind, a horrible reverie he couldn't seem to pull himself away from.

His despair was beautifully eradicated when he felt delicate arms weave around him from behind, one around his waist, and the other over his mouth. He smelled flowers and felt the heat of a body pressed against his back. "Zuko." It was Katara. She had escaped!

"I'm getting you out of here." Her almost silent whispering sent goose-bumps along the back of his neck. He strained to hear. "But you must do exactly what I say. Your life is in danger." Zuko lifted his eyebrow as Katara spoke to him, his eyes trained on the horrid little manipulator who was now gleefully skipping over to the stone block. It splayed its fingers, gripped the edges of the smooth stone, and lifted the entire thing over his head. It made a surreal image, this pseudo-man easily flailing a house-sized boulder over its head. But when it realized that no dead body lay beneath the stone, it shouted in rage. The stone disappeared. "Where is she?" It spun to face Zuko.

"Don't move." Zuko realized that Katara had removed her hands from his mouth and his waist. He could still feel her body heat behind him, though.

The creature's face morphed from anger to confusion and back to rage. "What? WHAT DID YOU DO WITH HIM, YOU LITTLE WITCH?" With a stomp of its foot, it disappeared. The grassy field disappeared along with it, leaving behind nothingness, a void so dark Zuko couldn't even see his own nose if he crossed his eyes. He almost panicked, but remembered that Katara was still with him.

"Katara?"

"Shh. You're still being manipulated. Don't move a muscle. If you do, he'll find you much more easily."

"What? I-"

"Shut UP, Zuko! I'm protected from his vision. He only saw me earlier because I wanted him to. That way I could get close to you without him noticing. But you're not protected from his sight. He could probably see you even now if he comes back and finds us here. I used a quick technique Roku just told me about to hide you for a bit. But I'm no good at this stuff. So just…don't say anything, okay?"

Zuko nodded, even though she probably couldn't see him.

"Now, according to Roku, the only way to get you out of here is to give you a taste of something…real. Something that you will recognize as real with every fiber of your being." He felt Katara move around in front of him. "He said it would have to be something extreme." She placed a hand on his shoulder and inched closer so he could feel her warmth bleeding through his robe.

His heart rate increased perceptibly. She couldn't feel that through his shoulder, right?

"So I'm really sorry about this, Zuko. I hope you can forgive me."

She wasn't really going to…I mean, sure, it would be real, but they hadn't even seen each other for more than five minutes…then again, she did look beautiful. And the darkness would make it much less awkward. And that flower scent was driving him a little bit mad. Zuko started leaning his head down to help.

He felt less like helping when he felt Katara slap him across the face. Hard.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

When Zuko opened his eyes his disorientation was complete. The sky above him was overcast and darkening fast. But as he lifted his head, he could not understand where he was. Long weeds everywhere obscured his vision, and a harsh breeze lifted his hair from his forehead. What had he been doing? How did he get here? He vaguely remembered something hitting him – no, not something. Some_one_. But he couldn't bring to mind who – who that person was…

He struggled to sit up, realizing he was in quite a lot of pain. His stomach clenched and every motion reminded him he had been the victim of some sort of attack. He couldn't remember what had happened to him, though. He glanced down, not wanting to focus too much on his injuries, but the seeping blood was enough of an indication that he needed some sort of medical attention.

His eyes took in the barren scenery around him, recognizing nothing until they landed on a still form dressed in white. He could make out dark, long hair and a tan arm which lay at an uncomfortable-looking angle.

It all came back. "Katara!" Zuko struggled to shift his weight forward, reaching a hand out to shake her too-still shoulder. Why wasn't she moving? "Katara, wake up. Please wake up." He gripped her shoulder more tightly and he heard her gasp.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Zuko collapsed back to the ground, his energy spent. "You're alive."

"Mmm…what? How did we…where are we?"

"Search me. Ow." Zuko ran a hand over his face, wincing. "I don't recognize anything around here."

He heard Katara shifting her weight. Her face appeared over him, concerned. "You don't look so good."

"And whose fault is that, Miss Crazy?" He coughed and winced again.

"Well, you're well enough to be funny. That's good. Let me look at you." She pulled his hands away and started easing his smelly, crusty robe from his shoulders, opening his chest and stomach to the cool air. He shivered.

"I'm sorry I hit you. I couldn't think of anything else to get you out of there. Roku said I needed to give you a taste of reality. I thought, pain. Pain is real. Stupid idea." He frowned at her as she spoke, but she was focused on his stomach.

"Well, I wouldn't worry about it. If you hadn't done that, we'd both be in trouble." Katara's eyes still brimmed with remorse, so he sought her hand with his. She looked up at him. "You saved my life. Thank you."

A small smile broke her sorrowful expression and it was all he could do not to grin back. When she glanced down at his torso, her smile disappeared. "What did they do to you, Zuko? This is awful."

"Yeah, it doesn't feel amazing, I'll admit."

"It looks like they were torturing you for months, from the scars." She pulled some water from a nearby puddle and coated her hands with it. "Well. I can't promise I can get rid of every scar, but I will try my best. This may take a while."

As she worked, she spoke, seeming to purposefully avoid his eyes as she did so. Zuko took this opportunity to study her face – the deep, smooth skin, the long lashes, the full lips…she really was beautiful, and the years had only ripened her appeal.

"I still don't understand what exactly happened. Every other time I've been in the Dreaming, I've woken up where I was before I Dreamt. How did I –we – get here?"

"I don't know." Zuko stared up at the sky, trying not to twitch awkwardly as her hands roamed over his now burning skin. "My body was injured in there. Maybe it's not so much a dream as another reality. We just came out a different way."

She humphed noncommittally, and Zuko had to admit the answer wasn't hugely satisfactory. But how did one explain sudden transportation across space? It wasn't any sort of bending skill he had ever heard of.

His thoughts were cut short as her thumbs found his neck. He choked a bit and coughed. "Wha-"

"Scars here, as well." Katara's mouth turned down and she sighed. "I'll just see if I can –" and she slid her water-encased thumbs along the sides of his grizzled neck, pausing below his ears. Her fingers curled around, brushing against his too-long hair.

"Uh…" The word was more involuntary than Zuko cared to admit. Her hands felt too good for him to classify them as medical assistance any longer. And that meant he had to stop her before he did something he would regret.

At his outburst, she looked up, a question on her mouth. He spoke before she could ask. "You've done enough. I feel much better." She opened her mouth to complain, but again he stopped her, grabbing her wrists and gently lifting her hands from his neck. "Really, Katara. I know this takes a lot of energy. I'm fine."

She sighed and sat back, eyeing him suspiciously. "You might have a fever, Zuko."

"Fire bender, remember? I'm always this hot." This seemed to mollify her. He sighed. He had been healed by Katara before, and every time exhaustion seeped into his body afterwards.

And as the light faded further, his struggle to keep his eyes open failed and he fell into a dazed sleep. But before he drifted off completely, he thought he felt a warm body stretch out next to him on the ground, and a quiet voice saying, "I'm glad you're okay."

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD


End file.
